After dinner, May produced ice cream cups from the freezer: three flavors. Franz took the twins outside to the garden.
The night air was cool but not cold, the kind of evening that carries the smell of the sea without the bite of it. Lily and Leo settled on the stone bench near the roses, working through their ice cream. Lily had chosen strawberry and was already eyeing Leo’s vanilla, turning over the terms of a negotiation she hadn’t yet announced.
May joined Franz near the garden wall. She held two more cups. "There are more flavors inside. Chocolate. Mango. The twins might want to try them."
"I’ll ask them."
Lily looked up immediately. "More flavors? Can I try different ones at once?"
"You can," May said. "But don’t eat too much. You’ll spoil your stomach."
"I won’t. I have a very strong stomach."
"You have a very impatient stomach," Franz said. "Go. Take Leo with you."
Lily grabbed Leo’s hand and pulled him toward the house, their cups abandoned on the bench.
May watched them go. Then she turned and pointed toward the neighboring property—a manor house, dark and silent, its windows reflecting the moonlight. "That’s where they lived. Arianne, Estella, Gio. For five years. It’s been empty since they left. No one’s rented it."
Franz looked at the manor. He had seen it from the car when they arrived, but he hadn’t known what it was. The building was elegant but understated, the kind of place designed not to call attention to itself. He could see how someone could disappear inside it.
"It took months before I met her," May said. "Estella and Gio would come to the market, to the neighbors’ gatherings. But Arianne never came. I heard she was living there; Estella had mentioned her niece was staying with her. But I didn’t see her face until almost six months after they arrived."
"She didn’t leave the house," Franz said.
"No. Estella told me later. About the engagement. About what happened. I’d read about it in the papers. Everyone had. But I didn’t realize the woman in the news was the same woman living next door. She was so young. And so hurt. Estella and Gio were worried sick about her."
"They took care of her."
"They did. But it was hard. For all of them." May was looking at the manor too, now, her expression the particular kind of fond that comes from watching someone pull themselves back from the edge of something. "She started coming outside eventually. Small things at first. She’d sit in the garden in the evenings. She’d walk to the end of the street and back. Gio told me later it took her nearly a year before she could walk past the market without turning around and going home."
Franz said nothing.
"But she did it," May said. "Every time she turned around and went home, she came back and tried again. That’s the thing about Arianne. She doesn’t give up. She just takes longer than she expects to."
"I know," Franz said.
"There was one morning," May said. "Early spring. I was coming back from the market and Arianne was standing at the gate of the manor. Just standing there, with her hand on the latch. I stopped and asked if she wanted company. She said no. But she didn’t go back inside either."
"She stayed," Franz said.
"For about ten minutes. Then she opened the gate and walked to the corner. Stood there a while. Walked back. But she’d opened the gate. That was the first time I saw her do that. I went home and made tea and didn’t say anything to anyone, because some things you just have to let a person do on their own."
"You see it differently now, don’t you?" May glanced at him. "When you look at her. You’re not seeing the woman she is in Montclair. You’re seeing this too. The years before."
He didn’t answer. She hadn’t really asked.
"I’m glad she found you. After everything. I’m glad she found happiness."
"She’s still healing," Franz said. "Some wounds take longer than others. But she’s getting there. She’s opening up and letting people in."
"That’s because of you. And the children. A family can do that—can heal things that nothing else can touch."
Franz kept his eyes on the manor. The dark windows. The empty rooms. He had not been there during those years, had not known her then, had not known she existed in any way that mattered. And yet the weight of it sat in his chest like something he was only now beginning to understand the shape of.
"May," he said. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"The marriage. The baby. We’re not ready for it to be public yet. We want to protect the children from the spotlight for as long as we can. Can you and the others—"
"Keep it to ourselves?" May smiled. "Of course we can. We’ve been keeping Estella’s secrets for years. One more won’t hurt." She placed her hand on his arm. "Don’t worry about us. Focus on your wife. Focus on your son. The rest will take care of itself."
"Thank you."
"You don’t need to thank me. You’re family now. That’s what family does."
Inside, through the window, Franz could see Arianne on the couch. She was breastfeeding Lexx, a blanket draped over her shoulder, her head bent toward the baby. The elderly women were gathered around her, their questions gentle, their laughter warm. Arianne looked up and caught his eye through the glass. She didn’t smile, but something in her face eased—the way it did when she was not trying to hold everything together by herself.
He nodded toward the manor. She followed his gaze, and something moved through her expression. Understanding. Acknowledgment. She knew what he was looking at.
Then she turned back to the women, and Franz turned back to the garden, and the evening held them both in the kind of peace that doesn’t announce itself.